


Witches, Wolves, and Vampires

by BriOfTheSword



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Breaking canon, Enchantments, F/M, Magic, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-22
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-24 10:22:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriOfTheSword/pseuds/BriOfTheSword
Summary: Twilight, but Bella is a witch and not a boring garbage person.That's it, that's the story. No plans for this yet, I'm just having fun.
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, Edward Cullen/Original Character(s), Edward Cullen/Original Female Character(s), Edward Cullen/Original Swan Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Witches, Wolves, and Vampires

God, FUCK this heat.

Even with this temperate necklace I made keeping the heat from hurting me at all, the heat is stifling and the humidity makes even breathing a chore. And it's barely eighty degrees. I hate to leave my mom like this, but damn, I cannot wait to get out of this place. I know she'd never say it, but she's thinking the same. She loves Phoenix and the heat, but she misses Phil, would much rather be traveling around with him than staying here with me. I can do this for both of us. We'll both be happier if I leave for Forks.

Forks, Washington exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains there more than any other place in the United States of America. My mother hated the gloomy atmosphere and the omnipresent shade and left with me when I was only a few months old. I still got to spend one month there every summer until I was fourteen and my dad lost me in the woods while we were on a fishing trip. I was gone for less than an hour, but it scared him senseless and he decided I was better off in a city setting. These past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead. I hated it, having less time with my dad and staying in the miserably hot weather rather than escape it for even just a month.

"Marie," my mom said to me - the last of a thousand times - before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

My mom looks like me, except with shorter hair and laugh lines. I looking at her wide, childlike eyes is almost strange for me. Mom has always been so... loving, erratic, harebrained... it's almost impressive that she can fend for herself. Well... kind of. Of course, she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid on time, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still… she doesn't know exactly how many situations I've taken care of for us with my magic. Or my common sense, something she inexplicably lacks in certain areas. Phil can take care of her though, so...

"I want to go," I say, taking off my sunglasses for a moment so she can see the truth in my eyes. I've never been the best liar, so she thinks, so I know she'll accept what I'm saying.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want - I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

She means it, but I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise. She's happy with this, but guilty for sending me away. I wish she wasn't, but I know she'd say the same if she knew how worried I was about her being able to function like an adult without me. I do her taxes, for God's sake.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

We hugged one last time before I got on the plane. We only had to check a few bags since I don't have much to bring with me, and I upcycled most of my clothes since most of my closet wouldn't be warm enough for Washington or hadn't fit for a while. After purging my closet and selling or donating all the outcoming items, everything I wanting to take with me fit into three suitcases, a big satchel and a carry on. Or, they did once I shrank a few things, but what Mom doesn't know won't hurt her. There was no way I was leaving my books or tools behind, or my laptop. Good odds say Dad got an older, beat up PC that runs like it's older than I am when Mom told him to get a computer. I love the man's older lifestyle, but I do not want to put up with that. My books and tools are either magical, make me happy, or are for convincing my parents that I don't have magic, so those stay with me too.

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn't bother meat all (though, to be fair, even if the plain goes down, I'd still be fine); the hour in the car with Dad, though, that I was probably a bit too excited for.

My dad had been really nice about the whole thing. He seemed didn't seem to care at all that my mom was remarried now and was genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car. I'd tried to insist I could work out how to pay for the car on my own, but he brushed it off and said he was happy to help.

I always get excited to spend time with Dad though. Neither of us are very outgoing or loud people, not like Mom is, but I think that's why we get along well. We talk, fill each other in on our lives, and then can comfortably sit in silence. I know too many people that need to fill every dead space with noise, and Charlie is a rare soul that can sit in silence on a room with someone and consider it bonding. My kindred spirit.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining and a nice, cool temperature. I couldn't help smiling. Living in Phoenix meant that rain was such a rarity that I always got excited to see it, not to mention the fact that I hate bright sunlight. I hate being hot, I'm pale enough to get burnt easily, and my eyes are unfortunately sensitive, making me need sunglasses on brighter days. Here, though, I can finally say my goodbyes to the sun. Hopefully those grow lights I got and my growth spells will work out with the weather, though, I'd hate to not have my herb garden anymore.

Dad was waiting for me with the cruiser, dressed in uniform. I was expecting this, he probably only got off work less than an hour ago. Dad is "Police Chief Swan" to the good people of Forks. I walk over, a spring still in my step from the rain. He tried to give an awkward, one armed hug, but I couldn't allow that. I fling both arms around him and after only a second of stiff hesitation, he relaxed and wrapped my up in his arms.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he hugs me tightly. He's always called me Bells, Bella or Isabella, despite me preferring Marie. Isabella never really felt like my name, like it fit me, nor did any of the variations of it, but he liked my first name, so I let it slide. It didn't feel as weird from him. In such a small town, I can only assume that's what everyone's going to call me at school... to correct them or avoid the awkwardness, that is the question. "You haven't changed much. How's Renée?"

"Mom's good. It's really good to see you too, Dad." 

Since I had so few bags, everything fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. The majority of the space went to woodworking tools, things I need for my plants, and books. I cast featherweight spells to lighten them, which were thankfully still active. I'd hate to lug them around and I certainly can't cast anything with Dad here. Well, not for something this little.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were leaving the airport.

"Yeah? What kind of car?" I tried not to seem overly excited. I'd never had my own car, and it'd be so useful to be able to say that anything that 'magically' appeared in the house was something I'd picked up at the store by myself. Unfortunately, Dad was a little sharper than Mom, but he was also logical. His first instinct won't be to guess that his daughter is secretly casting spells in his house.

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Woah..." I didn't know how to feel. I like the look of trucks and they're obviously useful, but those old cars just guzzle gas... maybe I can work on it while Charlie isn't around. make it more efficient, one way or another. "Cool. Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.

"Yeah, of course. Our fishing buddy, the twins' dad." Rachael and Rebecca Black... I haven't thought of them in a while. Nice girls, we just never really got on like our parents hoped we would. I like reading and studying physics, they liked boys and the beach. Wonder where they are now...

"One and the same. He's in a wheelchair now," Dad continued, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"Whoa, wait, what? Why? What happened?" I asked. He was totally fine, like, a year ago. At least, that's the last time I can remember Dad mentioning him. Was there another accident?

"Diabetes caught up with him. He's okay, just... well, paralyzed now, I'll leave it at that. He's doing better," Dad replied, a bit somber, but he seems to genuinely think that Billy's alright now. This just makes me imagine what it would be like to be able to publicly heal people... it's not possible, but... I can dream I guess.

"What year is it?" I ask, slightly distracted by my thoughts. So distracted that I miss Dad slightly flinching at the question.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years old, really."

That catches my attention. "When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think." He's staring out the windshield with a suspicious amount of focus for a man sitting at a stoplight. To be honest, I didn't even care how old it was, I was going to mess with it either way, but it's sort of funny that he thinks I care. Actually, sans magic, I might, but I guess I'll never really know.

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Huh... well, I don't really know a whole lot about cars. I probably wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I can't afford a mechanic…" I don't wanna be a downer, but that's over half a century old. I'm all for not scrapping things, but... I really don't know if that's okay for a car. If I wasn't planning to use magic before, I sure as shit am now.

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

"Well... alright, Dad. How much is it gonna be?" I've saved up a considerable amount, some from after school jobs, but the majority from selling things I make on the internet.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." He said, peeking sideways at me with a hopeful expression.

That... throws me.

"Wh- Dad! I- You... you bought me a car?!" Aw, damn, that thing could be an absolute lemon and I'd love it now. Dad got me a car! Aw, wait- "Dad, I was gonna buy it myself though, you didn't need to do all that! How much was it? I can-"

"No, baby, it's a gift. I don't mind," he said, smiling, obviously very chuffed with himself for getting me so flustered and happy. "I want you to be happy here." I kinda melt at that. He bought me a truck just to make me happy...

"I am happy Dad. And thank you, really. I can't think of how much that would have been, but it makes me anxious just thinking about it. Please, don't get me any other big presents, I've got enough saved up for stuff like this." 

"Well, I thought you were saving up for school?"

Ah, that. I always assumed I'd keep using magic once I moved out as an adult, continue making money and living with it once I had more privacy, but I also wanted something "safe" to fall back on. I planned on studying something, anything, to get a degree and then using my magic to live. I can survive sustainably and with very low funds by using magic and lie to my parents about how much I earned and what the money was going towards. All of this depends on me being able to live alone though, away from any prying eyes. Meanwhile, if I can't follow that plan for any reason or just wake up without magic someday, I could get a real job with whatever education I get.

"Yeah, I am. But I have different savings and checking accounts for a reason. I've got all my money sorted. Nevertheless though, thank you. Really, Dad. It means a lot that you'd do that for me."

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, probably a bit embarrassed by my thanks, if the color on his cheeks was anything to go by. Something else we have in common, we can't hide embarrassment for anything, blushing is just too easy. We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was, y'know, wet, and then we finished the rest of the ride in companionable silence.

It was beautiful here, better than I remember, or maybe I'm just happy to be back. Everything around was green: the trees, their trunks covered with vibrant moss, their branches hanging with an gorgeously surreal canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves. It looked like a fantasy, something I could picture a fairy kingdom looking like, or one of those medieval fantasy settings in games and movies. I adore all the plant life, it makes me feel... alive. Excited, but also safe. It makes me want to explore, to get lost in all the different shades of green.

Eventually, we made it to Dad's house — our house now. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with mom when they were married. It was just how I remembered it, the same faded white paint that he painted when they moved in. I absently wonder if he'd let me paint something, just on a wall in my room. While the house hadn't changed, I did see something new when we got out and started unloading. Parked on the street in front of the house was my (sorta) new truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. And I was right, I loved it, even more now that I'm actually looking at it. It was one of those solid iron monsters that never gets damaged — the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed. It's so... cool!

"Wow, Dad, it's awesome! I love it! Thank you so much!" I give him another big hug, giggling. I have a truck! And it's a beast!

His blush is back again, even darker than before. "I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again. He hugs me back for a moment before patting my back in a silent request. He probably wants to get all the bags in the house while it's only drizzling.

It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs and into the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. Everything was comforting, familiar; it should, it was my room, would have been if I'd really grown up here. The walls were freshly painted if the smell was anything to go by, but the color was the same light blue color. The peaked ceiling, scuffed wooden floor, orange lace curtains tied back by the window, the rocking chair from when I was much younger, they were all the same. Now, though, there was a desk and chair pushed against the wall, a dark blue bean bag in the corner, and a surprisingly large bed. On the desk was a router for WiFi, a secondhand computer, and a phone line stapled along the floor connected to a phone jack. It made me feel guilty looking at them. I had requested the WiFi for school, my work, and various projects, but Mom was the one who stipulated that I should have a 'real' computer and a phone at home so we could communicate easily. Another expense they went over me for. I had planned to buy a cell phone for that very reason, but they both said they didn't want me to 'waste my money.' I know they're necessary, but I feel bad that they didn't let me handle it. I'll have to make it up to Dad somehow. I was planning to take care of the house while he was at work anyways. Maybe I could get him a present... a 'thanks for welcoming me back' present? Mm, maybe don't tell him it's called that. What would he want...?

Ah, there was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Dad. I make a mental note to make that my first cleaning project. I don't think Dad is super gross or anything, but he is a single guy living by himself, so, yeah. Maybe I can practice that Unseen Servant spell more. Dad definitely has a much more regular schedule than Mom, I can definitely cast it while he's out.

Mm... it all already feels like home. I'm so... happy.

Dad doesn't really hover like Mom does. Once he knew I like the room, he left me alone to unpack, something Mom would never dream of doing. She'd try to organize thing in a horrendous way, making me rearrange everything once she was done, ask me questions about every little thing in the room, wanting to know what I thought about the furniture, the colors, everything. She always love that I got into art more when I was older, liked understanding my perspective on things like interior decorating and color theory. It's one of the few things we could talk about at length.

I shook off the feeling of missing my mom and got to work unpacking. I put away all my clothes, set up my laptop, set up pictures of me, Mom, and Charlie, unpacked all my books, left my woodworking and gardening tools in one bag to take downstairs to the garage, put my crafting items and tools in the desk drawers, and put all my more magical tools and focuses around my room. They blended in well enough, just looking like I might have a strange eclectic collection of items. Lodestones, a couple "decorative" pieces of driftwood, a ball of string, a hand mirror, even a wooden case with my wands and a broom in the closet, things that don't really stand out at all unless you actually looked at them and wondered why they were there, which an alarming amount of people never truly do. Even the ones that do brush it off with small explanations because normal people don't jump to the conclusion of "Oh, you must be a witch."

Mm, I've got chores to think about. There are still wards on the house, I made them permanent years ago, so no need to worry too much about that. I should just have to worry about my truck (MY truck, that is SO cool!) and my plants, plus general house work. All that can wait, I think, for me to wash the plane off of me. I take a quick shower, Dad having been cool enough to stock the shower with toiletry stuff for me alongside his stuff. Looking in the mirror, I had a stray thought about school.

Forks high school has three hundred and fifty-seven - now fifty-eight - students; there were more than seven hundred people in just my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together - their grandparents had grown up together. I was going to stick out. It all had pros and cons, the ones at the forefront of my mind being that less people being around was always a good thing to me, for multiple reasons. At the same time, I used to be able to blend into the background when there were so many people around. Going to school and living in a town with so few people meant that everyone knew everything about everyone - usually. I'd have to take a few extra precautions to make sure no one thought I stood out, not for any magical reasons, anyways. People can think I'm strange, or interesting since I'm the first new kid in this school since who knows when, but I had to make sure no one thought I was anything supernatural. 

I'll have to play the first few days by ear, see how closely everyone would actually pay attention to her, and definitely not cast anything, even stealthily, in public. It'd be fine. She'd gone plenty of stints without magic before.

After organizing her room to her liking, checking in with Renee over the phone, and a pleasant, quiet dinner with Charlie, I went to sleep to the sound of wind and rain outside my window, wondering what school would be like tomorrow.

Waking up was a gentle affair, no harsh sunlight through the window, only fog and a quiet, tapping sound of a light rain.

I love this place.

Even without an alarm, I woke up fairly early, definitely before Charlie, but not early enough to feel safe using magic. I went down to the kitchen, taking stock of everything in the fridge and the cupboards. A shopping trip is in order, for sure, but we have enough for a couple of omelets at least. I make a list of everything I want to pick up and make a note that I need to set up my plants, too. There's a bit of space on the counter for them, but I could also work something out with the windowsill. I had to get rid of my previous plants since I couldn't take them to Forks and Mom had a black thumb, but I had the grow lights, seeds and my planters ready; now I'm just waiting for a day to go shopping so I can get soil and for Charlie to turn his back so I can grow my plants with magic. If I do it slowly enough, he'll never notice a difference. Hopefully he'll accept them growing well. I never feel right without my plants. In Phoenix, I could set plenty in or outside without having too many questions asked, but here, the climate was completely different, and I was afraid that even my magic wouldn't be able to save them from drowning in the rain, so I could only have them inside with no sunlight.

I was already thinking of ways I could tie my plants in their little aluminum cans or old jars to the cabinets and by the window, or maybe to the curtain rod. I can use rope plant hangers until I can make a shelf, or a vertical herb garden... if it's too big I can put it in my room or a bare wall. I have to make a bookshelf anyways, thinking about the hazardous stack of books next to my desk makes me afraid for them. This way, I could make little compartments for my pants to sit on top of the shelf for the planters. Inconvenient for cooking, but I don't wanna be too much in Charlie's way either. He might think it's weird if it wasn't by a window either. A plant growing with little light makes more sense that a plant growing with no light, and Charlie has always been a bit sharper than Renee.

Mm, no more distractions. I start whipping up eggs, cooking bacon, and toasting bread. I gotta get some veggies in this house, Charlie cannot be eating like this all the time.

Just when I start finishing up and think I might have to go wake Dad up before it gets cold, the man himself walks into the kitchen, looking surprised.

"Good morning, Dad."

"Mornin'. You make all this?"

"Yeah, I woke up a bit early, so I had time."

"Oh. Well, thank you, sweetheart. That's very sweet of you." He ruffles my hair a bit and I turn a bit pink as I plate up our food. We eat in silence, both satisfied with the good food and each others' presence but I can't help looking around as we do. The house is obviously lived in, the dining chairs don't match each other or the oak table they're surrounding, the cabinets that Mom painted yellow, trying to bring sunshine to a place that could produce it itself, pictures above the fireplace of Dad and Mom in Vegas when they were married, of me just born in the hospital, all my school photos, they all paint a picture of Charlie and the family that broke apart, despite how hard he tried. I know my dad isn't perfect, not the saint I see him as, but it hurts to think how much he loves us, how much he loved Mom before she left. Maybe he even still loves her, now, but that hurt just a bit too much to think about; the idea that if Mom had been able to stick around, I could have grown up here, had Dad really be in my life... but it was useless to think about. I'm here now, Charlie and I are together, and Mom is... where she wants to be. Just like always.

I shake off the sticky, hot feeling of resentment, reminding myself that we can all be happy now. Heck, maybe Dad can even find someone special. Something to think about. As we finish up, I grab the dishes, hug Dad, and kiss his cheek before he wishes me luck with school, and then he's out the door, off to the police station. 

I take care of the dishes and the small mess in the kitchen before putting on my jacket, pulling up my hood, and heading out. I remember to lock the door with my key and check that there's still a key hidden under the eaves by the door. An obvious spot, but the wards should keep away anyone meaning harm. I'll have to double check them when I have time. They're still present, but I've learned a lot since I placed them here. Maybe I can strengthen them a bit. 

I have to put an embarrassing amount of restraint on myself to not splish-splash around in the puddles with my new waterproof boots. It's a refreshing change from the crunch of gravel and heat clinging to my dark hair. 

Getting inside the truck would be a chore is there wasn't a step, but there thankfully is one built in. It's nice and dry, and has obviously been cleaned out recently. Either Billy or Charlie must have done it, but the tan upholstered seats still held a faint smell of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. I might be able to fix it, but honestly wasn't bad at all. The engine started quickly, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume, proudly showing off it's multiple cylinders. The radio worked too, much to my excitement. I wonder briefly if the engine will be quieter once I use my magic, since the cylinders would still be firing but not under the same pressure or heat from the fuel and oxygen coming together. I brush it off, it's a useless though while I can't actually test out the spell.

Finding the school was easy, even though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school, unless you count the sign which declared it to be the Forks High School. It looked more like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't really make out how big it was. It made me smile like a loon, honestly. No chain-link fences, no metal detectors, covered in trees and foliage... Would there be time between classes for me to walk around? Aw, I hope so...

I parked quickly in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office. I walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges and entered the door. Inside, the office was brightly lit and warm. It was a bit small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Most excitingly, plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, making me wonder who took care of them. There were Chinese spider plants, iron plants, pothos, jade plants, peace lilies... it filled me with an honest warm joy I haven't felt in a while. It also reminds me that I won't have to make very many excuses to Dad about my own plants. These were all plants that could thrived well indoors and grow with only fluorescent light, but Dad knows pretty little about smaller plants, especially ones that aren't dangerous, so he'll definitely believe anything I say about my herbs and houseplants, especially once I set up a the grow lights I bought.

The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a heavy set, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which made me smile at the relaxed feel of everything I'd seen so far.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

I did my best to give a small smile before replying. "Hello, miss. I'm Isabella Swan." She brightened at my polite greeting, but I also saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. She's obviously heard about me, probably heard about Mom, too. The Chief's flighty ex-wife leaving town had been a splash back in the day, and now the daughter has come come back to town.

No, come home. I'm finally home, I have to remind myself.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She also mentioned, gently, that I couldn't park in front of the office, but directed me towards the student parking lot.

At the end of the informational dump, she smiled at me. "Have a great day, sweet pea, hope you like being back here in Forks." I smiled back. She's friendly.

"Thank you, miss, I will," I say, answering both questions. She's much nicer than the faculty members at my old school. It has me crossing my fingers that the teachers will be the same.

When I went back out to move my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was surprised, though I probably shouldn't have been, to see that most of the cars were older models like mine, nothing flashy. In Phoenix, I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. I never liked cars all that much in the first place, but cars that expensive made me dizzy to think about. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, hoping that the thunderous volume didn't bother anybody.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I have a terrible natural sense of direction and already planned not to use magic at school today. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and stepped out of the truck.

As expected, my pale self didn't stand out amongst the students. I had dark hair and eyes and work a black jacket with jeans. I didn't look any different than any of them.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I flowed along the in a sea of unisex raincoats until I got through the door.

The classroom was smaller than I'm used to, but everyone fit just fine. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks, so I did the same. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. No one here sees the sun terribly often, so my skin is going to blend right in.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name. I gave a small, slightly uncomfortable smile, but the moment didn't last long. He signed the slip and sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It should have been harder for my new classmates to stare at me while I sat in the back, but somehow, they managed. I was almost impressed. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my social battery very high if I smiled at everyone and made an effort in every class to interact with everyone, so I ignored their eyes and kept my focus on the front of the class and the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was good. It means I can review old notes and things since I still have all my school stuff on my laptop; I might even be able to use old essays if the assignments are close enough. Even if they aren't, I'll save time by reading them over and reusing my old ideas. It also means I have more time to work on my own projects rather than study for school, though that's kind of always been the case for me. I've always been a bit advanced in school, but never skipped any grades since my parents wanted to keep me around kids my age.

When the bell rang, a gangly boy with hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He had a big smile on his face, very friendly. He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type. Sort of adorable, if I'm being honest.

"Marie, if you don't mind," I answer, smiling back. Ah, was that rude? Probably not... Ugh, how much do I care if these people call me Isabella? Mm... enough to correct them once, probably. If anyone keeps the Isabella name going, I'll just let it go. I'm so busy thinking about it, I don't notice that every student in ear shot has turned to listen in on us.

"Where's your next class?" the boy asked.

"Government, with Jefferson in building six."

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Ah, definitely a helpful type. Very nice of him. "I'm Eric," he added.

I smiled brightly. "Eric. Nice to meet you. And, yeah, thanks, I'd appreciate it." His smile gets even brighter in turn. He nods and gets his things together quickly.

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I suddenly realized that several people behind us were walking closely, close enough to eavesdrop. Mm, gossip. I try not to tense up. Relaxed with nothing to hide, an open book. Act natural.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" Eric asked.

"Very." I answer with a smile.

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"About three or four times a year." I say almost mournfully. Stupid sun.

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered. He's looking at the grey clouded sky like he actually can't picture a sunny sky.

"Sunny," I said plainly, with only a small hint of disgust.

"You don't look very tan."

"I didn't get out much. I can't stand the heat."

His face pinched up in sympathy, nodding at my words. I assume he couldn't relate, but at least he was nice about it.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door and seemed apprehensive to leave.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful.

"Hope so," I said with a smile before walking inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. It went smoothly enough, but I was a bit bummed. He seemed like a teacher that liked embarrassing students, making me stand up there or calling on students who weren't paying attention. It was a shame, math was a favorite subject of mine.

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be nice, and thankfully I was holding out. Once all the introductions were out of the way I'd be able to get by using less energy on social stuff on the daily. I felt an itty bit bad not using the map, though.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, but I really don't think she cared. I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I couldn't keep up, so pretty soon, I stopped trying.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot most of their names as soon as she spoke them, unfortunately. Never had a head for names. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room, so I waved back.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, not even looking at each other, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to look them over without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or maybe like young teachers here rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque with waves of golden blonde hair reaching the middle of her back. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of magazines, the kind girls would starve themselves for... the kind that made want to feed her something, and then feel guilty because maybe that's just her genetics. The short girl was more pixielike, very petite, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest ones in the room, which was saying something. They all had similar eyes, all very dark despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruise-like shadows, as if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. Perfect, almost unnaturally so, like an edited photo.

All of their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze haired boy.

As I was watching, the small girl rose with her tray — unopened soda, unbitten apple — and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her more graceful gait, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought a girl her size would move. My eyes darted back to remaining four, who sat unchanging.

But none this is why I couldn't look away.

The reason I stared is because something in the back of my head told me that I should be recognizing them. I've definitely never seen them before, that was for sure, but something bothered me about this. Why...? Something about them seemed so familiar. Not their faces, or really even them, just... something about them. Hmm... they don't feel dangerous... but I should make sure.

"Who are they ?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class. As she looked up to see who I meant, suddenly one of them looked right at her, the boyish one, the youngest, I assume. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, but almost reflexively, like she'd called his name and he looked over automatically. And then his dark eyes flickered to mine, holding my gaze just a second longer.

He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I did drop my eyes and collected myself. It was rude to stare, I know, but I wanted to know why I recognize them... In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest — certainly no shared recognition, though I didn't expect any. He looked at the girl next to me the same way, disinterested. But he did look up... why?

My neighbor gave a breathy, embarrassed laugh, looking down like I did.

"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. Hands of a pianist, I think involuntarily. His mouth was moving very quickly, his lips barely moving. The other three still looked away, nothing in their posture changed, but I could tell they were listening. I had to hold myself from casting something, either to hear what he was saying or read their thoughts. No magic. Too many people could be looking at me.

The logical part of my mind started kicking in, trying to solve the puzzle in front of me. Their names... a bit unpopular, uncommon. The kinds of names grandparents had, from a previous generation. Though, maybe they just inherited them from past family members. Thinking about uncommon names gave me a revelation, but not the one I wanted: my neighbor was named Jessica, a perfectly common name. Hm... I need more information... and Jessica is a gossip.

"They're all… really beautiful." I tried starting with an obvious statement. Hopefully she'd run with it and ramble on like she had before. And I wasn't disappointed.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle, a touch more excited this time. "They're all together though — Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. It's not like they're related, I can tell that just by looking at them. I actually wouldn't guessed the Hales were related if she hadn't said so. Judge-y of me to think badly of Jessica like this so soon after meeting her, but she's judging too, so I'll pretend it breaks even for now. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, something like that would cause gossip. Unfortunately.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related…"

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins — the blondes — and they're foster children."

"Aren't they a little old for foster children?" Though, what do I know about foster children? Maybe they've just had been with the same family for a long time.

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."

"Aw... That's really kind of nice of them, to take care of all those kids like that even though they're so young themselves and everything."

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. I turn to her with an eyebrow raised. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. Judging her more now... she must have taken my expression as wanting her to continue, because she followed that up with, "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though."

That stops me in my tracks and completely sidetracks me from figuring out what's up with those people.

"Uh, that's... really fucked up of you to say," I say, leaning away from her slightly. It comes out of my mouth before I even really think about it. Thank God all the other kids aren't paying attention to what we're talking about. But, really, talking about a woman's infertility like that? Like her not having biological kids lessens the kindness of raising FIVE adopted and fostered five kids? In her twenties? Geez. I've gone from 'not liking' Jessica to 'actively disliking' her in about four seconds. What a record.

"Oh, I- I mean, I... sorry," Jessica stumbles before looking down again, a bit pink. She looks embarrassed, slightly ashamed and chastised, but I don't know for sure if it's because she just realized what she said was wrong or because she didn't expect me to object to it.

In my distraction, I don't realize that everyone at that table is now staring at me, with mixed expressions. Some shocked, others amused, with a touch of gratefulness.

There's an awkward lull in conversation after that. I don't know what to say, but she probably won't offer anything more if I say nothing, not after I called her out and said something like that so suddenly... ugh, I don't even care as much now, but I'll want more information about this later.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked neutrally. I know they haven't, I've never seen them before, and if nothing else, I would have heard about the doctor, assuming he was a medical doctor.

"No," she said. Her voice was more demure now, but I heard an undertone that implied it should be obvious, even to a 'new arrival' like me, that they hadn't been here long. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity, and some confusion. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were clearly outsiders, not accepted. They sat alone with each other despite having been here for two full years. That has to be rough. At the same time, that didn't help my curiosity or that feeling of an itch in my brain telling me that I knew something about them.

I had stopped looking at them since Jessica made the comment about Mrs. Cullen, but movement caught my eye as one of the Cullens, either Emmett or Edward, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. I struggled to keep eye contact, being caught staring again, but there's no annoyance at my actions in his eyes, just... some kind of unmet expectation. Like he's expecting to see something else, looking at me. What is he looking for?

"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I kept eye contact as I asked the question. He was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated expression. What? What is it? I looked away again. He wins this staring contest.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed, clearly bitter. Wow, wonder when she got rejected.

I had to bite my lip to hide my smile and keep in anything hurtful. Shouldn't respond to a bad attitude with a worse one. Then I glanced at him, Edward, again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek was a bit higher, as if he were smiling, too. Can... can he hear us? Or a coincidence... hm... what am I missing?

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful — even the big, brawny one. It was both surreal and a bit strange to see. The one named Edward didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends for a bit longer, but still left before them. I didn't want to be late for any classes on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who very considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. When she noticed me leaving early, she offered to walk me there, so I accepted. We walked to class together in silence. She seemed a bit shy. If I had more time, I might try to start a conversation to see if she opens up, but we came to the classroom less than a full minute later. When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table, exactly like the ones I used at my old school. She already had a neighbor, presumable her biology partner. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I immediately recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I tried not to look at him anymore. Of course I'm sitting with one of the five other supernatural kids I've noticed in the whole school. What are the odds...? Worse, I can't even tell what's different about them. Part of me wants to guess that they're all incubi and succubi; the unnatural beauty would certainly make sense, but there's no way the could produce those kinds of pheromones regularly in a high school full of hormonal teens without causing a scene. And I've never heard of incubi or succubi that look quite like them, or being let out in public that young. They're... something. Oh, this is gonna bug me.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I quickly made my way to the only empty seat in the room. Just as I sat down, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Edward suddenly went rigid in his seat. I pause.

"... Are you okay?" He's terribly stiff, and... looks shocked, maybe angry? Or maybe in pain... or smelling something unpleasant. Can't be me, I've had people getting in my personal space all day. Actually, sitting this close, I notice one more unique feature. His eyes are black. Like, coal black. I've never seen that before. Might be another clue... or just a mutation.

"... 'M fine."

... Ooookay. I'll let that one slide. I try to smooth my furrowed brows and focus back on my own things and the teacher, still a bit confused. The lecture being given is on cellular anatomy, something I knew and was too simple to keep my attention, so I was basically left to my own thoughts. Which means I have an unfortunate amount of time to wonder about the boy sitting next to me.

He's still stiff, sitting on the edge of his chair to be as far from me as possible. His hand is clenched tightly into a fist, veins and tendons pressing against his skin. He's as tight as a bow string, it almost looks like he isn't even breathing. Looking at him tensing all of his muscles this hard makes me wonder how I thought he was small before... although, I did think that while he was next to his more burly brother, so maybe it was just a problem of juxtaposition.

For a half second, I wonder if he can tell I'm a witch and is just afraid or maybe mad for some reason, but that's literally impossible. If I don't actually use magic, I'm completely indistinguishable from an average person, and I definitely haven't used magic at school yet. Further than that, I haven't even used magic since I've been in Forks.

There's no use thinking on it any more, and I'm not about to ask him about anything supernatural, especially not at school, so I decide to just ignore him for now and start drawing on my "notes" that really were just the bare minimum of words. I had a bunch of old notes on cellular study, and even those I wouldn't look at, I'd learned it the first time. I made drawings to remind myself: a small potted plant for my mini garden, a hammer to set up my woodworking tools in a way that looked like I used them regularly, a small cartoon house and an outline of a person for house work, a protective sigil for checking and updating the wards, and finally, a slightly more detailed drawing of my truck for the beginning of my gasless truck project. I had quite a few ideas about how to make it work only using magic, but that was going to take time, effort, and a bit of trial and error, more so if I needed to fix up anything in the engine. Hopefully Billy really did take care of the big red monster... Oh my gosh, I'm naming my truck Clifford.

And with that thought, the bell rang loudly, startling me out of my thoughts, and Edward shot out of his seat like a bullet. He stood, just as gracefully fluid as before, with his back to me and was out the door and gone before anyone else manage to even get out of their seats. I was a bit shocked, but recovered quickly.

Note to self: they definitely have enhanced speed, probably dexterity too, considering how graceful they are. The way they move is inhuman. They're a bit subtle, not showing so much that anyone not paying attention would find it superhuman at first glance, but their definitely... more. I don't know if I'd notice anything was really off if I didn't know magic was real. It's always weird to think about what average people can brush off as normal.

His attitude was strange too, but I tried not to take that personally, he definitely had a reason for that. That was a reaction, not something a person could do all the time without Jessica having told me about any kind of anger issues or something like that when she talked about the Cullens before. She certainly told me plenty of other stuff she thought she knew about them.

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way.

"Marie, actually, but yeah," I corrected him, with a smile.

"I'm Mike."

"Mike. Nice to meet you, Mike." Why did I say his name twice? Dammit. I'm definitely running out of the energy to interact with people.

"Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"Oh, I'm headed to the gym, actually, so I think I can find it."

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled. Hm, I really am a shiny new toy, aren't I?

We walked to gym together and walked on the way. Well, he talked. He supplied most of the conversation, which was fine by me. He didn't force any interaction from me, seeming just content that I was listening. He'd lived in California till he was ten and apparently missed the sun dearly. He was a bit surprised I didn't share the sentiment, but there was no shaming of my dislike of direct sunlight. Kind of him. Most people in Phoenix thought I was a freak for it. It's part of the reason I hate judgmental people so much. It turned out he was also in my English class, but I hadn't noticed him. He was the nicest person I'd met today.

But right as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed a bit, caught off guard. I shouldn't have been. People would be staring at the outsiders, as they had been all day. Though it is gratifying to know that I was right, that wasn't normal behavior for Edward. Guess I'm just special.

"Haha, no. Honestly, I don't know why he did that."

"Weird," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."

"Yeah, I noticed that too," I responded. "I asked if he was alright, and he said he was. I figured I'd just leave him to it."

"Mm, smart. He's a weird guy." Oh yay, more judgement. Harsh of me, but I think Jessica has set me off. Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. It's flattering.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of P.E. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Not fun, but there are worse things that could happen.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. I actually kind of like volleyball, despite not really being good at it. I'm not unathletic, but I'm not amazing at sports or general physical activity. I can have fun playing a game though, especially since I know how to take care of any resulting injuries I sustain. The final bell rang and I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. My jacket was thankfully warm enough to stave most of it off, but I still rushed to get back inside.

When I walked into the warm office, I involuntarily froze in place.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I could only see the back of his head, but no one else I'd met so far had that bronze hair color. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood back near the wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low, firm voice. If it were under different circumstances, I'd say it was very attractive, but I've never reacted well to arguing or yelling; while he isn't aggressive at all, he is definitely upset and fighting something. And then pick up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time — any other time.

Yikes... did I do that? That feels self centered of me to even think, but the way he reacted to me and Mike saying that he didn't normally behave like that sort of lent that thought some credence. Maybe this has nothing to do with me... but too many things are lining up to say he's trying to get away from me. I can tell him and his family are obviously supernatural, but can he tell something about me? No... that shouldn't be possible. I haven't cast anything for him to see or sense, he shouldn't know anything. I have a few enchanted items on me and my crystal ball in my bag, but so few beings are really keyed into magic like witches are that I can't believe he could sense anything out of the ordinary.

Or maybe he just dislikes me for some reason? Mm... that's just my insecurity talking. We've spoken less than ten words to one another, so it's pretty unlikely that he dislikes me enough to change his class schedule just to avoid me. This might have nothing to do with me whatsoever... but something in my gut tells me that's not right either.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, tousling my hair a bit. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me, his unnaturally handsome features twisting into a hateful expression. Just then, something in me feels genuine fear, stiffening the hairs on the back of my neck, and I have to make the conscious decision not to teleport, run away, just do anything to get away from him. But then the look on his face is gone and the panic in me lessens to a fraction. What... that was instinct. He... was going to attack me maybe? Or he just considered it... why? Why would I be a threat? He leaves me with my questions as he turns back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily, voice still sounding like velvet despite the murderous cloud around him less then ten seconds ago. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

Okay, another hint. Whatever he is, he could absolutely kill me with very little effort. My gut feelings aren't always right, but they very rarely warn me of real danger, and that feeling has always been accurate. Suddenly, the wards around the house seem a lot more important. He decided not to attack me, but he still had to make that decision. It's almost like... something is compelling him to attack me? Hm... I can't think of any supernatural beings or forces that are specifically aggressive towards witches. Not so quickly, anyways, usually a witch has to rile someone up for us to get attacked. Not to mention the fact that he shouldn't know I'm a witch at all. So... is he just thinking about attacking me? Like, a seventeen year old girl? Why?

After a touch of effort, trying to move after being scared stiff, I walk to the desk, trying not to seem subdued by the... interaction. I hand the receptionist the signed slip.

"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.

"Very nicely. Everyone has been very welcoming," I replied. It was mostly true. Everyone I'd talked to had been kind and Edward chose not to kill me just now, so I'm willing to call that a win.

"Oh, how nice." She smiles at me before looking over the slip. "Everything looks alright. You have a nice afternoon, dear."

"You too, miss." Such a nice woman.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. I quickly get in and start up the truck, the engine roared to life. I head back home, running through everything I can remember about protection wards off the top of my head. I've got work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I almost kept original Bella in the story and gave her a twin since that would have been a better story, but honestly, Bella is such a bummer... I couldn't write her in without feeling down, and I'm not here for that.
> 
> Also, everything I said about the truck and magic came from about an hour or two of car research on the internet. I know nothing about cars.


End file.
